The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1887-09-29
THE FREsHET.

grew up and hsd honss OF our o~n.
vas 10 be our own. his and mine. and -
were TO live together and 10 live alone; an
II The chief Of COR diet there was TO b
apple ,srts sod butter scoiches. that wa
70 be our o~n affair.
IL iss thousand pilies tbs, il vas sboni
that hoase that all the route happened
For The fac, is that bad The sironses
sort OF q will. aud 90 had Mark, and wher
II came 10 the point il ~as not that hons'
At all that / wanted
For you see. the spot whore bal lived
down on the great meadow farms, was my
sole idea of the beauty and pleasantoess
Of the world. Across the fiyer With i,s
high bank orowned With feathefy and
always trembling aud shining birches, the
hills rose, far and faint aud purple vague:
but here there were only long green levels
OF grass fields. lying low and even with
the river. that filled and sparkied in the
reeds along the edge sod nowsi by us
broad and grand on It's way 10 tue ocean
Aud when the sun shone and the sky was
blue aud the south wind softly blowing,
one seemed as near heaven living there as
IT IL given one 10 be on earth
There we're quite number OF dwelling
houses here, where this corner OF several
Of the great fiyrr farms conyerged, so that
| al IL Ia 80 h.a1 nut IN "A ~
ferent directions. the buildings clustered
together like village; aud we always
came aud went freely into each others
houses, aud knew each others concerns,
and were more like one large family than
strangers; and ! loved my neighboro every
ole, and did not want to go away from
them. Aud when it came to the question
Of marryin and gong away, WAS simply
determined that wouldn't go away, but
that Mark should come down to this gar
den Of Eden. where knew every tint OF
the ripe grass on the meadow, every spar
kle Of the water. every fleece Of cloud
upon the blue OF heaven.
"And why not. Mark, | urged. Here
is tins immense farm. really great prop
er,y. aud would you leave it to take care
OF itself. and we go to live two miles away
on your fathers place, that bleak. lone
some rock up in the air. shnt in by pine
forest, like a great fortress "a prison,
real dungeon
ut isn't like prison to me, said Marx.
at Is the brightest spot in the world 1T
would be il you we're in it, Man." My
real name was Pamela; but that's the way
people always used to call me-
"And no neigbbors there!' exclaimed
nobody to run 10 OF an evening, nobody
to talk to over the garden wall, nobody to
borrow OF. nobody to show your new
things to. nobody II you're sick. One
might ss we'll be buried alive. always
thought So"
II should want nobody but you, Nan, il
we were married and that was our home.
1t would be simply paradise.
1T wouldn't be paradise to me without
any water to see. never liked the verse
10 the Bible about there being no more
sea. Pretty heaven that, without any sea
TO look atl / couldn't live without my
river. I've always had it running by,
running up or running down, coming from
somewhere, going TO somewhere. Ii fe and
motion. Islwsys look out the first thing
iu the morning to see il it is there, and
listen for it at night. And it makes two
skies at night-one above and one below
with stars down 10 the under world; and
then by day the color, the changing light
and color. and the pushing of the tile,
taking you right into the mysteries. Oh,
it's stagnation without river! Id rs lief
be dead"
"And ! think Just as much OF the pine
woods" Le said, with the everlasting
murmpr OF the boughs; and when wind
begins to blow, long before we feel it down
below, the tree tops know it and are whis
pcring about it one to another, like old |
witches brewing a storm "
"Apd there's nothing but patch OF
garden there in your fathers old place" !
vent on, without needing; "and here are /
these long, rich grass lands: and bow in
the world are we to manage q farm two
miles away from it, should like to know (,
Il know," said Mark, easily. Just as
you would two rods away" /,
site impossible. said l. "You don't d
understand anything about the oversight 9
md care that q great farm needs il you Q
hink that"
"Well. we could sell the farm. )" /
"Sell the fsrml' | cried, starting up. q
MY fathers. my grandfatber's. my great l
yrsnd- -fsthers. /" '
'Your Nosh's, your Adams" b
"How dare you talk so to me, Mark i
Myers. about my homer" ! cried, more 3
md more vexed. Il
II shouldn't think you bad called my |
rome prison aud dungeon, be replied. a
"Well. il is the gloomiest. the &
Now hush. my darling; hush, You lit a
lie yiyen," said Mark, lsuehing, with his b
,and on my lips, scr you'll say something u
rou'll be sorry for" 4,
You've said something you'll be sorry Il
or, cried. "caIliag me vixen may b
,e Q vixen. but II you we're gentleman I
But tho Myerses always were tyrsnts. and b
IN glad found you out 10 time-so calm i,
10 cool snd so fred 10 yopr way. Aud I'll n
,eyer. never 90 and live 10 your old prison t,
Bonse," cried. growing sngfier snd an y
srier, heaven only knows Why. "And you n
nav ja.i whistle for your dog aud go g
here alone. never wsut to sec your face Il
again" And before be could grasp me 4
lnd prevent me flashed into the house
"a stnt ard hhifad the door 4